Zachariah was only a few years older than me the first time he gave me a mark. And after that, slowly, I saw the change come over my brother. Because each time Michael made him take part in the abuse, something dark and twisted grew in my older brother’s eyes.
He came to like it because, ultimately, he was cut from the same cloth as our father.
And when Zachariah had gotten old enough, he delivered those whips and punches himself. Half of the scars on my body were from my brother.
I opened my eyes and looked at Persephone. She had her legs curled up and tucked underneath her, a blanket draped across her shoulders.
Her head rested on the back of the seat and angled toward the window, the sun streaming through and casting this honey glow on the dark strands of her hair. My fingers curled in on themselves as the urge to reach over and brush the locks from her forehead grew inside of me.
I hated my brother and had celebrated his death. And a part of me wanted to hate her, too, for the simple fact she was part of Zachariah. It didn’t matter that she was innocent. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know who her father really was or the atrocious things he’d done.
Because she would pay for her father’s sins.
With her body.
Chapter6
Persephone
Hades’ home wasn’t what I’d expected. When he said his home was in the city, I expected something as cold and detached as he was.
Maybe a penthouse that overlooked the city, all steel and glass and little warmth.
But when I stepped into the massive, Tudor-style home, all rich, dark, hand-etched wood, I knew my eyes had been wide and my mouth hanging open.
The outside had a steeply pitched gable roof; two elaborate, masonry chimneys topping either side of the home; embellished doorways, groupings of stained-glass windows, and decorative half-timbering with masonry between the exposed wood framework and between the spaces of timber.
There had been four servants waiting upon our arrival, two framing each side of the front doors, their black-and-white livery attire pressed as they greeted Hades.
He led me up the staircase and showed me to my bedroom, told me to put my things away, and said lunch would be served in my room as he had “shit to do”.
But because the world clearly revolved around Hades, I needed to be ready to eat dinner with him at six sharp.
And that’s where I was now, standing in the center of the room for the last five minutes after he’d left without so much as another word.
I traced the large, multi-paned latticework and casement window in front of me with my gaze. The stained glass had heraldic and ecclesiastical motifs; something I’d learned when my father had them installed in our home.
Rich oak paneling framed the room, and tapestries and embroideries of velvet in colors of golds and rich blues adorned the walls.
I looked at the bed, a large, four-poster canopy style that was covered in a bright gold with a blue trim damask comforter.
Everything was foreign and aged to fit the style of the home, right down to the trestle tables and tufted benches off to the side.
“This isn’t me,” I hissed as I dropped my bag to the floor, not even realizing I’d been holding it in a death grip the entire time.
It may not have been you… but itisyou now.
For the rest of the day, I just familiarized myself with the room, put my clothes away, and set up a few things I’d brought with me on the dresser and bedside table.
And then I just gazed out the window as I watched some of the staff work around the yard. The property was gorgeous, with open land for as far as the eye could see. This had to have cost a fortune, seeing as there wasn’t this kind of real estate typical within city limits.
They covered the pool for the season, and a stone patio wrapped around it. There was also a gazebo closer to the tree line of the forest.
Around lunchtime, a member of the staff—an older woman with white hair coiled into a tight bun at her nape, heavy creases around her pale blue eyes, and a scowl on her face that matched Hades’—brought a meal to my room.
She didn’t make eye contact or say a word.
I wondered if that was at Hades’ command. Maybe he thought this would make me realize he held all the power, that even his staff wouldn’t acknowledge me in a friendly manner unless he deemed it.